by K. T. Hanna
Mathur grins. “No, not quite like that. Unless something happens like the breakdown Dom had, they generally need to lower themselves into the coma-like state. It is still an inaccurate description. I am just unsure of how else to phrase or explain it.”
Sai frowns and stares intently, trying to figure out exactly what it is that makes these dominos not Dom. Still, not the point of the visit. Exiled nomads, those without a Mobile to call home, are. “Mason said he needs to talk to you soon. About the nomads? They’re having difficulty pinpointing locations.”
The old man visibly suppresses a sigh. “Let him know I will have an hour spare this evening.” He straightens up and stretches his hands out, pinches the bridge of his nose, rubs his eyes, and tousles his own hair. “It is not like I am doing nothing, you know. If I have calculated things correctly, my fixing this mess—” he gestures to the entire room filled with dominos “—could have far more of an impact than anything else we might devise.”
“Are they really that bad then, these Damascus?” It’s hard for Sai to believe the whispered horror stories could be even close to true, but by the reactions of everyone around her, she needs to find out.
“More than bad. Once they are reunited with the Hounds, it will just be a matter of time. They will find us and do their utmost to fulfill their directive. There is no reasoning and no mercy. They will simply accomplish that which they have been set to do.” Mathur cracks his knuckles and picks up one of his instruments again. “Now, if there is nothing else...?” He looks pointedly at the unconscious domino in front of him.
Sai takes a quick breath so she can blurt out what’s been on her mind. “So just the exercises for now? No phasing?” Even though she’d been hurt, there was something about that leap that had been extraordinary, and she wants to feel it again. This time she’s sure she can control it.
He studies her for a few seconds. “Just the exercises. We may try phasing again soon if I think you’re ready.”
Sai smiles, the tension in her stomach melting. She isn’t quite ready to try again yet. “Great. I’ll leave you to it, Mathur. Build us a defense force!” She dashes out the door before the old man can reply.
Aishke groans, and Sai glares at her. “You wanted to learn. Stop acting like it’s the worst thing ever.”
Iria chuckles and walks over, a smile bright on her face. “You shouldn’t really complain. This is powerful stuff once you get it under control. This is Bastian-level stuff.”
This time, Aishke glances away, biting her lip. “I know. It’s just...difficult.”
Sai watches her. “Of course it’s difficult. Look at what you have the potential to do—would you want that to be easy?”
“No.” There’s a stubborn clench to her jaw, and yet her eyes are so sad.
Sai takes pity on her and lowers her voice. “In the world inside the cities, Aishke, you’re considered less than scum. We all are. They make us feel as if we owe them for giving us a home and a place to develop our skills. We’re expected to be grateful for the service, for being allowed to live. We’re expected to honor what we owe the GNW.”
She takes a deep breath, but pushes on, ignoring the expressions on Iria and Aishke’s faces. They might have been through a lot, but there was more to come, and they needed to understand the type of mindset they’d face. “We had to know how to fight or get the crap beaten out of us in skirmishes with our peers. We attended martial arts classes for defense, offense, ranged, and close combat. You either learned how to exploit people’s weaknesses or everyone knew how to exploit yours and your days were numbered.”
This time Sai takes a moment, looking pointedly at each of the others in turn before speaking again. “Life in the facilities taught us only two things: a general control of our abilities and to be the best we could no matter the cost.”
“No matter the cost?” Aishke repeats the words. She focuses on Sai and rolls her shoulders. “Time and energy to get control then?”
Sai nods. “Just ask Iria the amount of time she’s put into learning how to use those damned shields of hers. They’re getting stronger by the day, and while they were originally a good idea, with practice, they’re going to be phenomenal.”
Color suffuses Iria’s cheeks. “I haven’t done that much...” Her voice trails off as Sai scowls at her.
“I know how hard you’ve been working. I can see it in the way you’ve improved. I’ve not said it much, but I hope I show it. You’ve come such a long way. You don’t have raw power, but what you have developed is skill.”
Iria blinks, the smile on her face more genuine than Sai’s seen in a long time. “Thank you. Sometimes you just have to want something enough.”
“Apparently you want this a lot.” Sai nudges her with an elbow, and they both laugh.
Aishke scowls. “Fine. I’ll want to not kill people, because I was so gung-ho about it to start with.” Her lip trembles and tears well in her eyes, but she clenches her fists at her sides and nods. “I mean it... Let’s just do this.”
Sai walks over and squeezes one of the girl’s fists lightly. It’s about the extent of self-initiated physical contact she can manage with anyone who isn’t Dom. “You can do this, Aishke. I know you can.”
Her answer is a smile and another, more determined nod.
Sai claps her hands together. “Excellent, let’s—”
The knock at the door interrupts her, and she cranes her neck to glare at Kayde. “Yes?”
Kayde’s chest rises and falls rapidly, like she ran all the way there. “Meeting. Dom here. Now.”
Sai glances at the girls and nods. “Keep practicing the exercises, and don’t stop until you’ve got it down.” She only waits for them to nod at her before leaving the room.
The rounded walls of the hallway suddenly seem confining, and a refit crew replaces another of the gleaming white panels with dull silver. She peers closer as they pass. More and more of the panels are being retrofitted. The wastes are harsh on their homes. They need to be ready.
“This had better be good, Kayde,” she mutters as they walk. “If I don’t get their conditioning finished, I can’t finish the rest of their training and we’ll all be useless out there.”
Kayde shrugs and grins. “I’m just following orders, which were this: ‘Get Sai and get her now, never mind what she’s doing.’” She puts her hands up in surrender. “Couldn’t say no to that.”
“Then it’d better be bloody important.” She knows it is but can’t help shake the feeling that she still has so much to learn with her new legs, so much that’s still holding her back from performing at her peak right when they need her most.
“You should stop that, Sai.” Kayde stops her just before they walk into the room. “I can’t even sense thoughts, and I can tell how pissed off you are. Even if you don’t think you do anything, you represent what we’re trying to accomplish. We’re trying to make it possible for people to be free of the thought influence. You are the hope that it’s possible. If nothing else, just sit there and nod. It helps everyone, even if you think it doesn’t.”
“Is everyone a hobby psychologist these days?” All the good intentions are grating on her, but she smiles as they enter the room and greets everyone there with a nod as they look up from their discussion.
“...not going to be as easy as you all are thinking!” Mathur raises his voice slightly as she nears, obviously annoyed with a few of the people.
“Why?” Mason pokes at the readers and blueprints scattered over Mathur’s workstation. “It’s all clearly spelled out right here. I don’t see why we can’t easily put a stop to it.” For the first time since her accident, Sai can hear true hope in Mason’s voice. The wrinkles around his eyes are slightly less pronounced, and the deflated carriage he’s worn for weeks is absent.
James nods. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got my men training their asses off, but this would make the whole staying-alive thing a lot easier.”
Mathur throws his hands up in the ai
r. “That is the point! In order to create this, I need to acquire the kernel from one of the command Damascus. Their lieutenants, and only their lieutenants, will have this. You have to stop one without doing any damage to its head—an almost impossible feat. If that were not enough, you have to detach the head and make sure you do not damage the receptors to the kernel because I require the whole thing intact.”
The room falls silent, and Sai finds herself holding her breath.
“There is a reason Tristan did not do this.” Mathur’s voice is softer, his tone imploring. “This is no ultimate measure that will rescue us all from death. To create this device, the Damascus must first be active, and then you must take down an entire unit—four soldiers, a Hound, and a lieutenant—completely and hope you have managed to preserve the lieutenant’s brain. Then you will have to bring me the head, completely undamaged, and hope against hope that the kernel is still live. Not just undamaged, but transmitting or capable of doing so. If the kernel is fried in the process, none of it matters. You will have to start over.”
He looks around the room, taking a few breaths to regain his composure. His hair tufts out to the side like there’s too much electricity in his body. “This is no miracle cure. I can create this device and leave all but the kernel attachment done. But not before they are activated, and not before we have to defend ourselves. My main concern is getting our one good fighting chance repaired. If I can fix the dominos, we might have a chance at the kernel.” Mathur stops and crosses his arms, almost daring anyone to prove him wrong.
Mason clears his throat, the crow’s feet and withered stance back in force. “I didn’t realize it would be so complex...” His voice trails off, uncertain.
“What on earth did you think your father did that entire two-month period of hell under the Damascus threat? He researched this and found out the only way to send the killing pulse is to do it using their own wavelengths. Making an artificial one does not work. It needs to be one that has had time to integrate with the others and form a link, a bond. If it were easier, they would not even be a threat. If it were easier, your mother would not be dead.”
Mason’s stance shifts, shoulders tense, and Sai has to stop herself from taking an involuntary step backward. She steps in before Mason can say something he regrets. “And psionics are useless against them, aren’t they?”
“Completely,” Mathur says.
“I’m not.” Dom pulls himself away from where he’d blended into the corner of the room and strides forward. Sai hadn’t even noticed he was there when she entered, although it wasn’t surprising. The device blueprints had to come from somewhere. He stops about two feet from Mathur and crosses his arms.
“I’m not useless. I can stop them, can’t I?” It’s formed as a question, but almost spoken as a statement. Dom seems so sure of himself it gives Sai shivers. It’s the first time she’s seen him so full of confidence, so sure of who and what he is. She’s not certain it’s a good thing, given everything else.
“Not only can you stop them, but you have the best chance of removing a head without destroying it,” Mathur admits, his tone soft. “All the dominos do.”
“Then why don’t I just do that?”
Sai cringes. He lost all his tact in the reset.
Mason steps around to stand next to them, his weariness evident again, but the anger seems dissipated. Because if you go it alone, Dom, you’ll have five Damascus and a Hound to deal with. Not even you can manage that unscathed.”
“What does it matter how scathed I am? As long as I get that kernel, everyone here can be safe.” His eyes flash through their colors, settling on red, and a ripple runs over his frame so fast, Sai isn’t sure if anyone else noticed it.
“It matters,” Mathur says slowly, “because what if your sacrifice does not work? What if the kernel is damaged and I require another? What if I no longer have you to model the repairs of the others after? Do not be foolish just to be a savior.”
For a moment it looks like Dom will retaliate, but he unfolds his arms and steps back, eyes bleeding back to silver. He nods his head once, curtly. “I understand.”
“Good.” Mason takes over, interjecting himself between the Mathur and Dom stare-down. “We need a plan to take down a full group. We’re running out of time. Any ideas?”
Dom speaks up, his eyes avoiding everyone else’s. “I bought us a few more days’ time.”
Mason raises an eyebrow. “How’d you manage that?”
“I have my ways.”
“Then we have maybe five days to gather up the rest of the nomads, decide on a dispersal pattern for the Mobiles, and figure out how to beat the super-human non-humans.” Mason’s cheeks have regained their gaunt worry, and his shoulders are back in their slump.
He was so strong when she met him, almost formidable. Suddenly, Sai needs to get away from the planning of a war, of more death at her hands. “If you’ve no longer a need for me, I really need to get back to training.”
Mathur’s tone is gentle. “I would appreciate it if you could figure out with Mason how to go about dividing the nomads onto our available Mobiles. We are also going to have to cease production on the others, shelter them, and steer the Damascus away from their construction base. We will have to relieve the teams and give them a home base as well. There is a lot to plan.”
“Iria can help with that,” Mason offers. “She’s got a lot of experience with the building crews. I’ll talk to her about it.”
Sai nods, her scalp and joints itching oddly with the need to be gone. “Iria will be done with her training shortly. I’ll send her to you.”
Sai glances at the calendar hanging on the wall in her apartment. It’s an affectation Aishke insisted upon. Every date on it is clearly marked. The girl entered everyone’s birthday, every important meeting, and put a big target on the expected day of all hell breaking loose.
“Two more days,” she mutters, draining the box she’s drinking of its sorry excuse for orange juice. The label announces loud and clear it’s a synthesized product meant to simulate the true effects. She can only hope it has at least has some of the nutritional value it claims. It might be better not to know where the vendors in the shopping area get their wares.
The target on the calendar looms in front of her. Almost like it’s mocking and taunting her. Aishke isn’t home. Sai is proud of her. It’s unfair that she’s a harmer, given her gentle personality. She’s out training harder and harder each day. They all are. At least everyone has rudimentary training now.
The knock at the door startles her, and she whirls around. It’s not ajar as it usually is when Aishke is home, so she has to physically open it.
Dom stands on the threshold, looking away from the entrance at the vendor’s circle beyond.
“What do you want?” she asks, perhaps sharper than originally intended, causing him to turn around and raise an eyebrow.
“I was hoping we might talk.” Dom steps into the room with a frown on his face. His eyes still aren’t back to their clear silver. Red lingers in them, fragmented, giving his gaze an eerie hue. “I didn’t figure you to be a pink person,” he says softly, indicating the pretty hearts and things scattered here and there on the walls and the cushions on the couch.
“I’m not.” Sai shrugs and moves back to let him past. “But I’m also not the only person who lives here.”
“True.” He cocks his head to the side, studying her.
“What did you want to talk about?” She sits down and pulls one of the pink heart cushions onto her lap, glancing at her wrist at the same time. About an hour to spare if she pushes it, which she will because she always does. And right now, with him finally here and no real sense of urgency, she really wants to.
For a few seconds, she’s not sure if he’s going to take a seat across from her or else tell her never mind and exit the apartment. His expression wars with itself, but finally something wins and he seats himself on the other couch, elbows on his knees.
“I wanted to talk about us.” There’s no inflection in his voice, and he doesn’t raise his eyes to look at her.
She can’t even guess at what he wants, at what he feels. They’re the words she’s been dreading since waking six weeks ago. They make her gut churn. She stares at him, unsure how to respond, unsure how to tell him that she should have approached him instead.
“You’re not ready yet, I see.” For a few seconds he watches his hands. “Mathur said you might not be, that it might be too early. I just...”
He moves to stand up, but she reaches out, fingers brushing against his thigh. “It’s not that. It’s not even you anymore. It’s that... I’m not sure who to blame or if there’s blame on anyone but the GNW or, really, myself. I know this in my head and I know it in my heart, but there’s something stopping me from fully accepting it.” The words come out almost jumbled, rushed. Her face flushes and it’s suddenly very warm in her small apartment, too small for the both of them. She wipes away the stray tear rolling down her face with annoyance. “Damn it, this shouldn’t be so hard.”
Dom finally meets her gaze, the red in his eyes receding to the back. “Yes, it should. You lost both legs. You went through the reattachment process almost immediately afterward and have had no time to adjust properly. You’ve been forced to speed your recovery with this...war around the corner. You have every reason to find this hard. To adjust, to accept, and to forgive.”
She smiles at him, tears brimming even as she wills them to stop. “No one else says that. Everyone just expects me to adapt.” She pauses and focuses on him. “Damn it, I miss you.” She spreads her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I want it to be that easy, but sometimes it’s just not. There are things I want to make myself feel, and I can’t let go. Not yet.”
He shakes his head, a subtle ripple vibrating his form for a second. “I don’t quite understand, but I can sympathize. There’s nothing more confusing than not knowing how to feel. I battle with that every day.”
